


For my eyes only (Look at me)

by Eclipsada



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Historically Ambiguous, M/M, Sex, Smut, Voyeurism, but its not very described, its complicated, pls read authors note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclipsada/pseuds/Eclipsada
Summary: Seoho feels the warmth brushing over his back before he feels him. Overpowering. Alluring. Inevitable.His husband.There's a soft caress up his arm that sends shivers down his spine, lips parting quietly. It’s as if Geonhak was greeting him, taking his sweet time to be close to him after an insanely hetic evening."They're watching us." Geonhak’s whisper startles him, an easy breath that strokes against his ear like a secret, and all he can hear is white noise.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Seoho
Comments: 32
Kudos: 162





	For my eyes only (Look at me)

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT (Read for your own safety)  
> 1) There are moments where this may qualify as *dubcon* (not the actual sex), so keep that in mind. I just discuss in depth Seoho’s inner conflicts with whether he wants this or not. (The context of this is ridiculously unhealthy, but I promise this is all very loving)
> 
> 2)SO! Have you ever watched an old timey show where the marriage needs to be consummated and some people check by literally watching them? Yes, very creepy. But I was watching a show recently and my mind went like OKAY BUT seodo where Geonhak eases Seoho into it and makes him forget ppl are looking. But in a more private setting. I didn’t want people in the literal room with them so it’s all very lowkey and not focused on it. But technically, neither of them want to be watched.
> 
> 3) Please don’t judge me. 
> 
> 4)Also this has MILD dom/sub dynamics, biting and unprotected sex bcs of the historical context. BUT YOU PRACTICE SAFE SEX KIDS, you had the fortune to be born in this century, use that to your advantage <3
> 
> 5)Lastly, this is painfully unbeta'ed. Ill fix that sometime if i bother

.

The ceremony was just as overwhelming as Seoho had expected it to be.  
  
Too many eager faces and fabricated smiles, the large flare of dresses that grazed him along overwhelming perfumes that jumbled together until it made him almost sick. The grandiose display of exotic dishes weren’t enough to tempt him, not with the way his stomach flipped every time someone congratulated the _happy royal couple._ _  
_ _  
_ He hadn’t been able to exchange more than a few words with his new husband, who was kept restlessly busy from start to finish. Part of him was glad for it. What was he to say?  
  
_I’m sorry it’s me you’re stuck with, my lord. But at least you’ll have the comfort of my family’s wealth. I promise, I shall do my utmost best to not be a burden to you._ _  
_ _  
_ The prince probably wanted this as little as Seoho did- or as little as Seoho was willing to admit. But at least Kim Geonhak had been raised with no hopes of marrying out of love, much unlike himself.  
  
Lee Seoho has never been one to complain about his duties to his family’s name. And yet, he cannot help but still boil with betrayal at the memory of his father announcing him he’d been engaged without his knowledge- to a future king, no less. He remembers the months leading to this very day as those of someone awaiting a life-changing sentence. The anxious knot in his chest made it close to impossible to breathe when he thought of the amount of pressure it would all mean, to live in court, to be a king’s companion.  
  
Seoho comforted himself with the far away memory of Geonhak he had. They’d seen each other before, quite often in fact, on the joyous occasions where Seoho was allowed to travel with his father to festivities or events held in court. Seoho would take part in the celebrations himself, singing for the delight of the nobility and perhaps participating in the little plays here and there, organized by the nobles- in order not to die of boredom, if Seoho says so.   
  
He remembers crossing his highness’ path more than once. And he remembers each and every one of them to be the most agonizing experience in his mostly shielded life.  
  
Because Geonhak, more than merely a prince, has always been beautiful in his eyes, if a bit cold- looking. He's the kind of man that, had Seoho been in a position to earn his affections, he would have jumped at the opportunity in a heartbeat. Seoho can still recall his burning stare the first day they met, when he bowed to Geonhak in public, and the way Seoho was left vibrating by his very first interaction with actual royalty. 

Did Geonhak even remember him? Seoho doubted it. His existence at court was nothing short of insignificant- up until that very week.  
  
But Geonhak didn’t regard him with a face of disgust at the altar, as he had expected him to. In fact, he had barely acknowledged him at all, solemnly staring ahead and repeating the lines they were meant to with enviable apathy. But he had been nice, strangely attentive. When Seoho’s knees went weak as they walked down the stairs, Geonhak had caught him with surprising ease. His hand, it never strayed away from the low of his back, unless they were forced apart. 

It made Seoho all the more nervous, and overwhelmingly confused. The prince had never touched him before, and whereas Seoho wouldn't have complained had he done it back in simpler times, there was something about his touch that felt burdensome. It seemed to be a heavy reminder that, now married, Geonhak had certain entitlement to his body Seoho wasn't willing to give him - _yet_.

So Seoho kept his glass full at all times, sipping at it whenever he was allowed a rare second of peace in order to forget all the curious eyes on him - and the only pair that weren't.

Now dancing, that had been the worst of it.  
  
After an awkwardly silent main piece with the prince - in which he made an embarrassment out of himself by stepping onto his foot- Seoho was passed around from person to person until he couldn’t differentiate faces anymore. 

And then, sweaty palms and red cheeks, he was forced to pay his respects to a king that was known for his disdainful looks and hurtful comments.

Seoho’s family was far from a comfort. They had taken this marriage as if it was their own from the very beginning, and made it their personal quest to secure everything ran splendidly. They were- as one would expect- as pressured as Seoho felt, now that they had an important position to fill in court. Seoho's own mother had spent a fortune making sure they were dressed with the finest fabrics, engraved with beautiful details people would talk about for months on end- or so she hoped. And so, instead of assurances and soothing words, Seoho had gotten nagging remarks to fix his attitude, his posture. _Smile more, why aren’t you with your husband? Have you greeted Lady Seo yet? Oh! The_ Queen _is looking your way, stand up straight, child._  
  
But of course, distracted as he was with the dreadful moment at the altar and the exhausting celebration, Seoho had allowed one tiny detail to escape his mind. The newlywed had forgotten all about what came next: one fundamental event that would officially consummate their union in marriage.  
  
The wedding night.  
  
So, almost without meaning to, Seoho comes to terms with his surroundings, as the wine clouding his mind finally - unfortunately- dissipates entirely. It proves to be of tragic timing, as he finds himself alone in an oddly cosy room, clad in a billowy robe that feels like it’ll fall apart with a single tug at the laces. _Terribly opportune,_ he thinks sarcastically and makes himself laugh. He thinks everything would make him laugh, though, nervous as he is.  
  
Seoho seeks relief by the fire hearth that was lit for his comfort. Everything seems to be thought out to the most minimal detail- the room, his clothes, his previous preparation for the so-called consommation. 

But he tries not to think about it. Despite his age, Seoho feels a stranger to the pleasures of the flesh- even those of his own body. And so, getting himself ready for the night by candlelight in an unknown room with nothing but a pot of oil to help him with it, was challenging, to say the least. It was all made worse by the fact his newly assigned maids were waiting outside the room to wash him afterwards. It proved to be one of the most shameful experiences of his life, despite being coated in praises and kind words by the sweet ladies that were more excited about his marriage than himself. And he wonders - will it always be like this from now on? Will there always be people behind his door, knowing his every action, following his every move? 

He hopes not. 

His thoughts are unsettling, so he focuses on his surroundings instead. The room is small and simple- not the King’s quarters, most likely. Geonhak isn't known to indulge in luxury, but the room is still beneath him nonetheless. It has no windows, only the door from which he came in. It haunts him, as he stands by the warmth of the fire and expects Geonhak to arrive at any moment. Seoho dares not face it when that happens, trusting his ears will warn him when the moment comes, facing the fire hearth instead.  
_  
_ There are unusually erotic paintings hanging from the walls, as if trying to entice him with their sensuality. Were they hung anywhere else, the scandal would be such, it'd attract the attention of every chronicler in the kingdom. Yet they fit just right in this setting, Seoho thinks. He still refuses to look at them though, afraid he’ll scare himself by conjuring images in his mind he’s not yet ready for.  
  
Behind him, the largest bed he’s ever seen rests in the middle of the room, taking most of the space. It's carefully unmade, fresh sheets pulled back for an easier access. It looks heavenly soft, and yet, he doesn’t have the appetite to test it. It’s the only thing befitting the quarters of a royal, and it makes Seoho wonder, what exactly is this strange little room that seems to be taken from a house of ill-repute?  
  
Seoho’s been over the nervous twists of his mind a long time ago. He’s mostly accepted his fate with a lack of reluctance that surprises him. Does he want this? He isn't sure. Should he want this? Now that he's married, perhaps. But admitting current desire would be like a self-confession of having desired for a long, long time. Albeit deep under his skin, hidden from everyone and himself. And how dared he want a prince back when he was nothing but a subject? Geonhak has always been- up until this very day- unreachable in his eyes. 

He wonders if Geonhak will touch him. And if he does, will it be the touch of a lover, or the disdainful handle of a man who wants to be done with his marital duties? If that is the case, Seoho would rather he didn’t touch him at all.  
  
But something about this all feels inevitable. He's thoroughly, painstakingly prepared his body for what's to come, to the point where he still feels himself, loose and slick, burning with shame. He’s been washed, scrubbed clean for the second time in the day, his skin softened with oils that felt divine to the touch and his already aroused body. He’s been wrapped in these clothes that feel like nothing, then led down an empty hall and into this room, delivered as if he was a present. That’s what he’s felt for a long time. Like nothing more but an offering gifted to Geonhak himself and delivered as a package to his doorstep. _Here, have our son, do as you wish with him and in return, grant us an alliance, grant us power._ _  
_  
Sometimes he even caught himself forgetting himself during the celebration, as people addressed Geonhak but not him, struck a conversation and talked about the prince’s _beautiful new spouse_ as if he weren't even there.  
  
But a sudden noise interrupts his line of thoughts, his body, that had finally been eased into relaxing, tenses once more. He fidgets with his hands as he hears voices, and then the startling sound of the door slammed open and promptly closed again. And then, just silence.  
  
Should he turn? Face him? He should. It’s beyond disrespectful to show one's back to a future king, to ignore his presence. And yet Seoho’s petrified, unable to do anything but watch the mesmerizing waves of the fire that has long ago overheated him. His skin probably burns to the touch by now.  
  
“I apologize. I kept you waiting.”  
  
Seoho can’t speak, can’t even move.  
  
And then steps. The dull sound of fabric falling onto the floor. Laboured breathing that sounds close, so close-

Seoho feels the warmth brushing over his back before he feels him. Overpowering. Alluring. Inevitable. 

_His husband_ .

There's a soft caress up his arm that sends shivers down his spine, lips parting quietly. It’s as if Geonhak was greeting him, taking his sweet time to be close to him after an insanely hetic evening. 

"They're watching us." Geonhak’s whisper startles him, an easy breath that strokes against his ear like a secret, and all he can hear is white noise.  
  
Seoho closes his eyes as he takes such a deep breath it makes him dizzy. Or maybe it’s Geonhak who, with a simple touch, has already sent his mind into override. Of course. Of course it wouldn’t be enough for them to strip Seoho of his home, his family, his right to choose. They had to strip him of his privacy, too.  
  
“Is that a normal occurrence?” He dares to whisper in a shaky breath, and Geonhak stays still as if eager to listen to him. “One of the pleasures of court I wasn’t informed of?”  
  
There’s a dry little laugh behind him and Seoho swallows, ignoring the way it makes his whole body burn for a moment. His heart has been racing for a long time now, and it’s suddenly eased into a duller rhythm.  
  
“No. Merely a way to prevent false claims that the marriage can be annulled.” Geonhak replies to him, a kind explanation that carries no judgement in his voice. Seoho should know about this. He should know how serious of an issue this is, that their successful union is crucial to the future of the kingdom. This goes beyond his childish dreams of love marriages and living in his family’s summer lands regardless of the changing seasons. At least he'll live in a castle, now. "Worry not, they'll leave soon enough after we start." 

_After we start._  
  
The prince continues his gentle ministrations on both of his arms, as if he hadn't just made him tremble all over with his mere voice- let alone his touches. Seoho can’t quite believe this is the same person he danced with before, whose eyes wouldn’t quite meet his, and whose touch felt nothing short of reluctant. This man is treating him in ways Seoho has never experienced before, and yet it feels as though he's being treasured, as if Geonhak was taking his sweet time to breathe him in, feel his proximity without any pressure in the world.  
  
Was he acting before, or is he acting now?  
  
He’s dazed, a bit confused that a prince would treat him like this. Geonhak owes him nothing, why would he handle him with such delicacy?  
  
“Look up, to your right. See the painting with the lady in the forest?” Geonhak asks, as if said lady wasn’t showing her breasts as she runs with abandon, an image so overflowing with sensuality, Seoho’s cheeks tint a bright red in shyness. “In the obscured shade of the trees.” The prince whispers conspiratorially and there- right there. Seoho can spot it, the darkness of a pair of holes, in which eyes he can’t see probably hide cowardly. Seoho represses a shiver of discomfort at the idea and drops his eyes back to the fire, letting his eyes dry with the heat.  
  
But Geonhak seems to soon get bored of the repetitiveness of his actions, even if they have somehow lulled Seoho’s nerves into a quiet buzz under his skin. It feels cold when the prince pulls away, but he’s shortly turned around by an assertive tug on his robe. It makes him gasp. He sees blurry for a moment, and then the piercing eyes of a future king. Seoho doesn’t know where he gathers his strength to keep his gaze up, but he somehow does, experiencing a sort of distortion of the world that surrounds him for a moment.   
  
He’s got such fierce eyes, the prince. Seoho feels somewhat inadequate to receive their attention.  
  
The spell of the contact doesn’t break when Geonhak allows his knuckles to slide down his cheek in a soft caress that makes him flutter his eyes shut in what can only be defined as defeat. Seoho accepts it, and not because he has to, but because it feels _right_ , like he’s being cared for. He can fight himself no more.  
  
The idea that a prince deems him worthy of such attention is enough for a surge of confidence to overtake him. The eyes that lurk in the walls of this room don’t seem as much of a burden anymore, if he’ll be treated like this.  
  
“You’re warm.” Geonhak's voice sounds appreciative- so very soft. There's a depth to it that makes it easily dissipate into the silence of the room, the crackling of the fire as their only company- more or less. So Seoho is forced to lean closer to catch his words, strain his ear. It makes it all the easier to feel in tune with him, wrapped in this artificial intimacy. And he wishes Geonhak would whisper in his ear, only for him to hear. He wishes this moment belonged to them alone, and no one else.  
  
“You won’t speak to me.” Geonhak lowers his hand, letting his eyes break the contact and travel down Seoho’s body in a subtle manner. It allows him to at least breathe properly. “Do you fear me?”  
  
“No, your highness.” Seoho answers, truthfully, voice no louder than a whisper. “Words are just a torment at times.”  
  
Geonhak promptly looks up, cracks a little smile, one that Seoho doesn’t think he’s ever spotted in public.  
  
“You may call me by my name, Seoho. We’re married after all.” The other says, and it makes his heart skip a beat. It’s the first time the other pronounces his name. It takes him by surprise, and the way he speaks it, as if taking pleasure from it, reminds Seoho of the first time he was kissed, the little noises of pleasure his friend let out before they were forced apart by outer circumstances.

Will Geonhak kiss him, too? Will he grant Seoho with those little displays of bliss as well?

He hopes he will. 

Seoho wants to please him now that he’s seen a chance, he wants Geonhak to be proud of the husband he’s got. It’s not enough to just not be a burden anymore. Seoho has felt the spark of ambition, and the desire in him is enough of a drive to make him seek his approval.  
  
So Seoho’s hands move on their own accord, under the watchful eyes of Geonhak, and those who lurk in the dark. His palms press against Geonhak’s chest, and he looks up at the slightly taller man. It turns the prince serious, and he slowly stretches his neck to the side, sighing. He _likes_ it, he wants to be touched.  
  
“Am I overstepping, my prince?” Seoho asks, wants to smile, but cannot bring himself to.  
  
“No.” Geonhak’s left arm surrounds his waist, almost possessive. His right hand trails a little path down the expanse of Seoho’s neck, and he responds in kind, tilting his head back to grant him more access “Am I?”  
  
Seoho shakes his head. “You can do as you wish.”  
  
So the arm around his waist tightens, forcing him with a stumble into Geonhak’s body. He collides softly against his chest as the prince presses his lips against his ear, letting out a small exhale that feels hot, humid. It makes his knees weak. “And if the walls couldn’t hear? If I wasn’t your prince?”  
  
It’s a secret. No one else is meant to know that the prince is giving his husband the option to refuse him. They’re bound by a duty that should not be up to discussion. Seoho _belongs_ to him now- or maybe not. Not yet. Not until Geonhak splays him down on his bed and- Seoho’s cheeks burn with shame yet again.  
  
It’s the prince’s very same question, the one that makes Seoho’s mind, what convinces him that _yes, he would_ -  
  
“I’d let you anyway.” Seoho trembles, replies with a whisper that’s equally as secretive as Geonhak’s.  
  
The answer must please Geonhak immensely, because he soon pulls away, cradling his face with a fondness that feels as though Geonhak has known him for ages and ages. It makes him want to give it back just as much.  
  
“You’re beautiful.”  
  
The words are simple, and yet they inspire an agitation for which he is in no way prepared. He’s jittery, his hands seem to quiver, still very much against the toned body of what feels like a warrior. And he can’t wait to see what hides underneath his clothing, under the glorious royal outfits in which Geonhak’s always clad that leave way too much to the imagination. Oh to think he's the only one granted such honour.

“My prince-”  
  
But he can’t speak, can’t reply in kind when lips cover his with poorly concealed hunger.  
  
Geonhak’s arousal is made clear by the way he presses Seoho against him and devours each and every one of his little sounds of surprise and pleasure. He feels clumsy as he stumbles to keep up with the movements of a man that seems to want to claim him for himself with a simple kiss. Seoho’s head swims in pleasure, all his mistrust bleeding out of him as Geonhak coaxes him into relaxing in his arms. He forgets all about titles, all about unwanted marriages and eyes that creep behind walls. All he feels is the deep, raw pull of desire, and it’s soon made obvious that they won’t last like that.  
  
It’s Geonhak the one who reluctantly pulls away with a grunt of displeasure and leads Seoho to the bed by his wrist. And Seoho offers no resistance, because he has none to give.  
  
But Seoho isn’t eagerly pushed onto the bed as he expects, bracing himself for absolutely nothing. Geonhak stands in front of him and unabashedly undoes his clothing. The way he exposes his body to him reminds Seoho of a greek god revealing his true form to a human, who can do nothing but stare, humbled, at the sublime being in front of him.  
  
There are no sounds coming from his mouth, but the redness of his skin betrays him, the way his eyes can’t quite meet his husband’s. And Geonhak, who’s gauging his every move as if he was a painter trying to draw him from memory, understands immediately that his new husband will need more than a little guidance tonight.  
  
Seoho startles when he feels a soft, feather-like touch on his fingers, flinching as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. But Geonhak just smiles, bringing his hand by the wrist until Seoho dares flaten his palm against the other’s firm chest. Geonhak covers his hand completely with his own and encourages him to explore a body that’s all fine lines and glistening skin that looks beautiful decorated with the shadows the fire casts on it. He’s warm to the touch, inviting. Heavenly.  
  
Seoho feels him breathe, right under his palm, chest rising with effort that makes him sound divine to his ears. It makes Seoho remember that Geonhak is just a man, too, prince or not- king or not. The arousal that he sports doesn’t seem so intimidating anymore, he realizes, as he glances up into the most lustful eyes he’s ever seen.  
  
Seoho exhales, and reluctantly pulls his hand away.  
  
He wishes to return the gesture, to remove his clothing and bare himself, too, no matter how lacking he may seem in comparison. However, the memory of the playful nymph in the forest haunts him, mocks him. It reminds Seoho that this isn’t for them to live, that he isn’t entitled to the beauty that is Geonhak’s body.

Seoho tries, nevertheless. His hands grab his clothing harshly, determined to be done with this once and for all and-

"You don't have to." Geonhak suddenly stops him, as he gently pries Seoho's hands away from the laces on his front. "Don't. They don't deserve to see you. You're for my eyes only."  
  
His words leave him beyond breathless as Geonhak seems to rethink himself, bite his lip playfully for just a moment.  
  
"Just-" And then Geonhak is tugging sharply at the collar of his robe, exposing one of his shoulders and latching onto it the second the skin is flashed to him. Seoho gasps, the sound melting into a moan as he tugs unabashedly on Geonhak's hair, begs him to _stop, it feels too good, how am I meant to go on if you distract me like this?_

The prince holds the back of his head as he lays him down on the bed - so very gently he forgets to breathe. But he isn't allowed a single moment of peace, as Geonhak climbs on top of him and slides his free arm under his waist in a possessive demonstration of desire. He kisses his lips this time, in a way that can only be described as delicate. Geonhak coaxes his lips open with the tilt of his head, licking into his mouth as if he owned it.

How is it possible, that a man who has been trained to lead armies and kill without a second thought in battle can treat him so very gently?

The kisses stray, wet and sloppy, down his chin, his jaw, the column of his neck, and Seoho’s left gasping for air, his low stomach burning almost painfully when he remembers that the prince is bare, on top of him. But there’s pain, real pain when Geonhak bites his neck a tad too harshly- that makes him cry out slightly, opening his eyes to the unfortunate truth of a painting that hides the controlling eyes of a person that’s seeing him in the most defenseless of states, giving himself to a man he barely knows.  
  
And Seoho goes stiff, the uneasiness in his stomach growing overwhelmingly large in the span of a moment and before he knows it, when Geonhak reaches for yet another kiss, Seoho’s turning away, blatantly rejecting him. And it’s worse, it’s worse because he has just refused the prince- his _husband-_ _  
_ _  
_ Geonhak eases one hand from under him and caresses through his hair, planting a little kiss on the bite instead. “I’m sorry- did I hurt you?” There’s concern lacing his voice, and it makes the guilt in his chest all the more unbearable.  
  
But It still makes Seoho smile, that he has somehow just reduced a prince to little apologetic kisses and earnest looks. “You’re rough, at times.” Seoho whispers, and lets his lips drag down the other’s cheekbone in relief, conciliation.  
  
“Forgive me. I’ve wanted you for so long, control evades me.”  
  
The confession slips from his lips as if absent mindedly, but it makes Seoho’s heart flip, and confusion wash over him. Before he knows it, he’s squirming in the other’s hold, Geonhak’s arm easing from under him with reluctance and setting him free.  
  
Nevermind that they’re being watched, heard, nothing matters at all as Seoho sits up and studies him warily.  
  
“You mock me.” He accuses in disbelief, and Geonhak laughs, mildly indigned at being treated like this.   
  
“Oh, my love. I speak only the truth." He reaches for his hand, and Seoho doesn’t have the heart to reject him again. 

"You sang for me once-” He did. Seoho remembers just how nerve-wracking it had been, one of the first times he was being introduced to society- and with royalty in the audience, no less. It had been such a challenging experience, it may rival his current circumstances. “You were nothing but captivating, my eyes wouldn't stray from you. I could not forget you then, no matter how much I tried and I asked for your presence, many times. Each time I knew of your father’s visits. I wanted you here, with me.”  
  
“Why didn’t- Why didn’t you talk to me?” Seoho, who’s too dazed to properly take in the words that reach him, manages to ask in a stuttery exhale. Geonhak inches closer, completely unbothered about his nudity and their breaths mingle as the world around them is, once again, left forgotten.  
  
“Because, like you said, words are also a torment for me.” Geonhak confesses in an unique display of vulnerability that moves Seoho to his very core. And he understands right there, right then, that it’s far from a coincidence that it ended up being him, out of all people, to find himself under the prince’s warm body, in the heartfelt embrace of his arms. Geonhak _chose_ him.

Just like Seoho would have chosen him, had he been given a chance.  
  
“It’s alright. We won’t need the nuisance of words, tonight.” His bravery doesn’t go unnoticed by his husband, who understands his words for what they are: permission, his willingness to go through with this, should Geonhak still want it.

And oh, does Geonhak seem to want it with the way he kisses Seoho as if he was a starved man reaching for an oasis.  
  
“Seoho, touch me, kiss me, do as you wish.” Geonhak demands- no, _pleads,_ as Seoho allows himself to be laid down once again _._ His words carry an edge to them that is impossible to miss, making him let out a shuddery breath against his lips. _Geonhak wants him, he wants him, he-_

His hands find courage with the prince's sweet kisses, easing their way up Geonhak's irresistible shoulders, the expanse of his back and up his nape. He tugs at his hair harshly until he makes him grunt, a sweet little revenge when Geonhak gets too rough -but way gentler than before- and bites down on his neck yet again, as if he was trying to mark him up forever. 

Geonhak kisses him again and again, dirtier this time, and puts his palm in between his legs as if it belonged there, applying the most delicious pressure Seoho has ever felt. It steals these little satisfied sounds from him that make Geonhak’s eyes darken impossibly, clouded with pure, raw lust. 

So when strong arms finally slide from underneath him and in between his legs to grab his hands and pin them down onto the bed, Seoho moans, purposely this time. A wanton, loud sound of pleasure as he hooks his legs around Geonhak's waist, urging him on with his slow, dirty grind. 

" _Seoho."_ The way his prince looks down at him is positively _feral._ So when Geonhak sits up on his heels and lets his hands slide down his body to his waist, Seoho closes his eyes and moans just once more. It prompts Geonhak to grab his hips as if he owned them, move them against his own until he cannot stand it anymore. He wants- no, he _needs_ , and it’s obvious Geonhak does too.  
  
He doesn’t know what possesses him, but Seoho finds himself slapping the prince’s hands away and shoving him onto his back instead. He climbs on top of him and finds utter delight in the way Geonhak’s hands find his immediately. The hurry with which he straddles Geonhak’s hips makes him stumble forwards, but Geonhak is there to catch him, grabbing his wrists in the air to balance him, helping Seoho ease himself down on top of himself gently. Yet when Seoho means to tug him in for a kiss, the prince refuses to let go. He bends Seoho’s arms behind his back as he kisses him more, lips swollen and tender by now. But it makes Seoho moan anyways, how Geonhak doesn’t hide the way he wants him, or the fact that he wishes to control him, too.  
  
Seoho won’t give in, though, not too easily.  
  
He laughs, as he purposely turns his head to the side, once, two times, making a game out of avoiding Geonhak’s kisses.  
  
“You tease me.” Geonhak grunts, but there’s a shadow of a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth when he grabs Seoho by the chin and forces him to stay still, freeing one of his hands. Seoho uses it to drag it slowly down the center of the prince’s chest painstakingly slowly, curls his fingers in so the nails dig in just a little  
  
“Should I not?”  
  
“By God, I should have married you sooner.” Geonhak lets out in a shameless wanton little noise of desire that makes him burn in all the right places.  
  
There’s a little bottle of oil that’s been modestly left on the bedside table. Geonhak reaches for it before Seoho can even spot it, and the shame of arousal feels high in his head, makes him cant his hips against Geonhak's, who reprimands him with a little pinch on his bare thigh.  
  
The light fabric has ridden up to reveal the milky thighs of his legs, and Geonhak tortuously drags his nails down the skin, watching with utter fascination as Seoho parts his lips and whines for him. “Are you-”  
  
“I’m ready.” Seoho urges to say, blatantly, now that his mind is too clouded with lust to care about mundane things such as _embarrassment_.  
  
“Next time, don’t be.” The prince mumbles, as he opens the little bottle with a pleasant empty sound. “I’ll take care of you.”  
  
Seoho’s left breathless for a second, before his hands act for him and he snatches the bottle for himself, pouring an obscene amount on his hand that drips all over them.

“Let me, your highness.” He says in the cheekiest fashion, and before Geonhak can even open his lips and reply, Seoho’s hand curls around his member and coats his shaft deliberately. His strokes are teasing and indulgent, as he tries to engrave the slick firmness of it to his memory. He feels big, hard. It's beyond exciting, the rush of power he gets by the delectable faces he manages to cause in his prince. Seoho tugs and squeezes and caresses the tip with his thumb until he makes the prince squirm under him, breath coming out shallowly and desperate. His hands settle on the back of his thighs, fingers pressing so hard Seoho’s sure they’ll leave marks.

Not that he cares.   
  
“Stop.” He’s suddenly ordered and snapped out of his trance as the dark, commanding voice compels him to obey- albeit reluctantly. Geonhak's skin is shining alluringly, and were Seoho allowed, he'd lick him all over. His mouth is parted and he breathes harshly, as if having undergone an exhausting training.

And they haven't even started yet. 

It makes him go delirious with pleasure. 

“My prince- please-” He gasps, begs, urges, as he raises on his knees- He’s waited, they’ve waited long enough. He wants it, needs it, craves Geonhak to take him now so they’ll finally be left alone and Seoho can cry with abandon, moan into his prince’s mouth and tell him all about how much he likes this, how he too, wishes they were allowed intimacy and a bed a long, long time ago.  
  
“Call my name.” Geonhak demands as one of his hands is suddenly planted on the curve of his ass, nails sinking onto the softness of the skin in a way that makes him roll his eye in a mix of pain and pleasure. His entrance is suddenly teased, a blunt pressure that slides wetly until- 

Nothing, again.   
  
What a bastard.  
  
“Geonhak, Geonhak, _Geonhak_ -” He trails desperately, head empty, not a single thought passing in his mind as he feels him, just there, just right there.  
  
“Oh, Seoho. You’re so beautiful, so precious, just-” Geonhak manages to mumble in a shuddery breath as he finally, finally, settles himself, allowing Seoho to slide down all the way until the back of his thighs are flush against the prince’s.  
  
He sits himself fully on Geonhak’s shaft, every inch stretching him more and more, turning him greedy. But he does it too fast, the slide made almost too easy with the aid of the oil, that makes him feel dirty in the best way. He realizes, belatedly, that he was too eager, the stretch blazing hot as Seoho whines at the slight pain of it, while Geonhak massages his thighs, his ass, his lower back - everywhere except where he actually wants him. Seoho’s stomach quivers with the effort of staying still, as Geonhak kisses all over his face while his hips move minutely, albeit by accident- little jerky movements that make Seoho all the more overwhelmed.  
  
His shaft is trapped between their two bodies in a delicious friction that helps him relax, until the mild discomfort turns into the familiar ache for more.  
  
It’s Geonhak who gently helps him move with the strength of his arms once his hips start undulating teasingly, the luscious tight friction making it feel all the more pleasurable for them both. A gentle ragged breath of air falls out of his mouth as the prince mumbles sweet nothings into his skin, mouths as his neck and angrily tugs at the annoying fabric that gets in the way.  
  
Geonhak allows him to ride him like that. In a slow, agonizing pace, just to let him get used to this, to him. But Seoho wants more, and no matter how much he pleads, Geonhak won’t move, as if taunting him on purpose. So Seoho clenches around Geonhak and moans his loudest yet, until the prince’s grip tightens against his hips, canting his hips up sharply, stealing his breath away.  
  
Seoho squirms as he gets used to the new pace, clawing at Geonhak’s arms, curling his fingers around his wrists as he's lifted and dropped down in a way that makes him bounce on his lap like he weighs nothing more than a doll does. Seoho’s sounds rise in volume with each powerful thrust, until he’s throwing his head back in pure ecstasy.  
  
“You- god, Seoho you feel divine, just _divine.”_ Geonhak tells him, the words of pure adoration clashing with the way he’s being treated like he’s just a means to the prince’s pleasure.  
  
It occurs to him in the clouded state of his mind, that they might still be observed, and instead of inciting an anxious knot in the pit of his stomach, it just makes him stiffer, if that’s even possible, a moan bubbling up his throat without his permission.

So what if they see? Let them. Let them watch, let them see the way their future king desires him, wants him, needs him, the way he uses him and enjoys him.  
  
Seoho’s thighs burn with the effort of holding him up for Geonhak to take, and he braces himself all over the other’s neck, biting onto the prince’s shoulder and muffling his moans against his skin. From there, he can perfectly hear every hitch and little gasp, every strained breath of Geonhak’s. It makes him feel beyond powerful, and he tries, he tries so hard to make him feel good, and he’s there, just there, just-  
  
“No, no, _no_ ” He whines, when Geonhak _dares_ stop, slipping out of him in a way that makes him almost cry of frustration. But Geonhak chuckles breathily, easily rearranging him onto the bed, face down.

"Your legs are trembling." He explains and shushes Seoho softly when he wines again.

Geonhak tugs and tugs until he manages to clumsily and harshly take the annoying piece of clothing away from him. That unbearable robe that would stick to his burning, sweaty skin and put a barrier between them. And Seoho’s too tired. He’s too tired and needy to protest that he wishes to see Geonhak’s face still, so he allows this. He allows the prince to touch his back reverently and delight in the thinness of his waist, the curve of his ass as he spreads his legs and makes him sob in pleasure when Geonhak lathers his entrance with yet more oil.It's messy and wet, and Seoho loves every little drop of it.

Geonhak’s indulgent in the way he massages his fingers inside, easing three digits in one go and letting out an appreciative hum as Seoho flutters around his fingers, pushing his hips back for more.

" _Greedy_." Geonhak all but accuses, squeezing the flesh of his full legs and ass with utter abandon. It makes Seoho hide a smile against the crook of his elbow.

God he _loves_ this.   
  
When Geonhak finally, finally eases himself inside, there are no more sounds coming from him. His lips are parted as he revels in the shamefully easy way Geonhak sinks into himself, with no resistance whatsoever anymore as his body just welcomes him inside. Geonhak finds his hands on the bed and interlaces their fingers together, pinning them onto the mattress in a way that can only be described as dominant. He talks hotly into his ear, tells him all about how good he feels, and how he can’t wait to have Seoho like this all for himself every night - every morning too, should he let him, because _you’re all mine, now._ _  
_ _  
_ Geonhak enjoys the way his body reacts to him. He teases him with slow, deep ruts that promptly turn into sharp jabs that make him yelp in surprise, only to melt into moans when the prince mouths at his neck in a little apologetic gesture that makes Seoho smile. Only once does he let go of Seoho’s hands, as he spreads his cheeks open to watch with rapt attention the way his body receives him over and over again.   
  
It’s feral, the way Geonhak’s hips slap against his ass as he thrusts inside and makes his toes curl in desire, his whole body shaking with the force of his jabs. The obscene squelch of their union that deafens him with embarrassment. Seoho feels tender and used, can barely even feel anything anymore except the burning, never-ending tightness deep in his lower stomach, and before he knows it, he starts to beg.  
  
_Touch me, touch me, please, Geonhak, please-_ _  
_ _  
_ And his highness, his prince, his husband, obliges, so fast one might think he'd be unable to deny him a thing. He eases his hand under him and curls it around his member, enticing a soft little sigh of pleasure from his lips before he deprives him of breath yet again.  
  
“Will you come with me?” Geonhak asks, voice hoarse with the effort of fucking him until he cries- there's no other way to explain the wetness down his cheeks. Geonhak is so sweet, the way he asks as if actually inviting him, while he demands he does so with his hands, and those hips of his that make him whine and tense up around him.  
  
“Yes, yes, my prince-”  
  
A little slap on the curve of his ass, a sharp little tug on his shaft -Geonhak, who punishes him for not saying his name- and that’s all it takes for Seoho to fall apart under him.  
  
“Ah, _Geonhak_ -” He cries his husband’s name when he finally feels the little explosion of ecstasy in his lower belly that spreads through him so violently and eagerly, he shakes in pleasure. Geonhak fucks him through it, until he too, comes. He thrusts so deep into him, for a moment Seoho swears he feels him all the way up to his chest. And then, everything clouds into a pleasant blur.  
  
A long time passes until Seoho finally becomes aware of his surroundings.  
  
He fell asleep, he realizes, as Geonhak gently slides the dirty robe from underneath him. Seoho realizes he doesn’t feel as gross as he expected, and wonders whether _a prince_ has cleaned him as he slept.  
  
“Geonhak.” He whispers, sleepily, still in that fine line between dream and reality.  
  
The fire is almost gone by now, and he can barely make out the outline of his face, the gentleness of his smile.  
  
“You should rest now, my love.” Geonhak says, caressing his cheekbone with a tender stroke of his fingers. “We have a long day ahead of us.”  
  
“Is royalty not allowed to rest?” Seoho groans, dreading the arrival of morning.  
  
Geonhak chuckles softly and lays in bed next to him, pulling the unused covers on top of them both and inching closer until their breaths mingle, their bare bodies sharing the same heat. “Nobody said we’d be leaving the bed, my love.”  
  
Seoho’s eyes remain closed as he tries to repress a smile. But Geonhak notices, and traces his lips with a finger.  
  
“What if I’m tired?” He asks, peeking through his eyelashes to watch Geonhak’s reaction.  
  
“Then I’ll do all the work for you.” Geonhak replies, and Seoho lets out a huff of laughter as he allows his fingers to tangle through his husband’s soft hair.  
  
“Then what if I’m sore?”  
  
“Then I guess I have no choice but to offer my body instead.”  
  
Oh, Seoho shall _love_ being married.  
  


_._

**Author's Note:**

> hahahaha hope u enjoyed, if you did pls leave me some love? ty <3
> 
> (BTW! i made a cc in case you wanna come and talk to me <3 [(eclipseoho)](https://curiouscat.me/eclipseoho))


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